


holding your scarred heart in hand

by brodinsons (aeon_entwined)



Category: Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Frottage, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeon_entwined/pseuds/brodinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders has returned from Norway. Is Ty happy to see him? Is Anders happy to see Ty?</p>
            </blockquote>





	holding your scarred heart in hand

**Author's Note:**

> [Whitney](http://bartonesque.tumblr.com/) just suffered through the second series finale, and I told her I'd write some porn to cheer her up. Welp.

It's been months since they last saw each other. Really, they haven't even talked either. Just repeated weeks of silence, then bam. Back to normal. 

Well, as normal as life gets for anybody with the name Johnson.

Normal isn't exactly their style. Never has been. That and a crap ton of bad luck that never seems to end. That's the Johnson style. Awesome superpowers and shitty luck that somehow continually gets shittier.

Right now, he's holed up at his place, keeping a low profile while everybody settles down from the apparent shitstorm that decided to blow through while he was out globetrotting, hunting down yet another artifact. Ty's with him, ambling around the kitchen and commenting on his lack of edible food. Anders almost tells him to fuck off and go on a grocery run, but he bites his tongue. He doesn't want to start another fight. He's too tired as it is.

Anders glances over the back of the couch, then flops back onto the cushions with a prolonged sigh. "You know," he gestures idly with the half empty glass of wine in his hand. "You could just let it rest and take care of it in the morning. I'm sorry for not keeping the fridge stocked while I was gone for a few _months_."

He can almost hear the shrug when Ty gives up. Almost immediately following the heavy footfalls coming out of the kitchen, a familiar face pops over the back of the couch.

"Weren't you always calling _me_ the grouchy one?" a dark brow arches, and Anders barely resists the temptation to hit his little brother in the face with a pillow.

Alas, he's too lazy and comfortable as it is, so the pillows are staying where they are.

"Piss off," Anders mutters, rolling onto his side so he doesn't have to be scrutinized. He tilts his head enough to take another sip of wine, then grunts when the cushions at the other end of the couch dip as Ty settles his weight onto them. "And piss off again before I kick your backside off this couch."

He gets a quiet laugh in response, so he kicks out, only to find his ankle trapped in Ty's large hands. 

Anders breathes out, too used to frigid cold now to be affected by the coolness of Ty's skin against his own. He focuses on taking another sip of wine, using it as a shield so he doesn't have to turn over and make eye-contact.

Then, there's pressure on his ankle and Ty is pulling him down the couch a little, causing his shirt to ride up his back, wrinkling as it goes.

"Hey, hey!" Anders snipes, trying to extricate himself before his drink becomes the innocent victim of what's apparently going to be an argument of some kind. "Valuable alcohol here, what are you do-"

He cuts himself off when Ty's hand closes over his own, easing the glass out of his grip and placing it on the nearby coffee table. He's frozen, unsure of whether he should either flee or stay and work out what exactly is going on.

He doesn't have to wait long. They're holding each other's gaze, but it's not a contest. There's a tension stretched across the space between them, and Anders wonders how much it's going to take to snap it.

"I should," he licks his lips, swallowing carefully as Ty leans over him, pressing him back onto the cushions. "Am I drunk?"

Ty laughs, though his expression is verging on something close to terrified. "Do you feel drunk?"

Anders shakes his head, exhaling sharply as Ty's lips brush his cheekbone. "No," he admits. "I feel absolutely, terrifyingly sober ... and I really hope you know what you're doing because this could be a huge mistake in the morning and you know how shit I am at making responsible decis-"

His train of thought is abruptly cut off by the press of cool lips against his own, and the rest of it dissolves into a low groan.

Anders clutches blindly at Ty's hair as screws his eyes shut, twisting the soft strands between his fingers as they kiss. And just like that, he realizes that they're _kissing_. Sloppy, wet presses of their lips against each other's, his warmth against the natural chill of Ty's skin. It's absolutely terrifying, but it's everything he's wanted for years. Ty could pull away at any second, but Anders would always have this. And if this is all he'll ever have, it'll be worth it.

Then, Ty is pulling away, but his mouth is sliding down his throat, latching onto the fluttering beat of his pulse and sucking at the skin till Anders can _feel_ the bruise that'll be there in the morning. He whines high in his throat, arms going tight around his little brother's shoulders. 

His eyes are still closed, but he can focus on everything better this way. The working musculature of Ty's back beneath his palms as they shift and arch against each other, the labored breathing exhaled against the vulnerable skin of his neck, the tight hurt noises working their way out of his throat every time Ty presses down against him.

He's harder than he's been in his life and he knows Ty can feel it, pressed against his thigh through their respective layers of denim and cotton. It should horrify him, that he's reacting like this to something he'd tried to hide for so long, but all he can feel is overwhelming _relief_ that it isn't just his secret to bear anymore. Relief and awe that Ty is receptive to it, that he wants it, that he initiated it. 

" _Ty_ ," Anders breathes, wrenching his eyes open as Ty grinds down against him, slotting their hips together almost perfectly. He stares up at his little brother, throat working soundlessly as he tries to form words and fails. 

Ty's grin is blinding, and Anders decides that he's never seen anything more beautiful on his brother's face. He feels a certain amount of pride, that Ty is smiling because of him. So he smiles back, digging his fingers into Ty's shoulder blades so he can pull himself up and seal their mouths together again.

While they kiss, Ty presses forward, rutting into the cradle of Anders's hips. With a gasp, Anders tears his lips aways from his brother's, splaying his thighs wider to let him closer, tighter. He can feel Ty's cock pressed up against his own, hard and wanting. 

He wants to touch, wants to rip their damn clothes off and touch every inch of Ty he can possibly reach. But there'll be time for that later. He's already halfway gone and there's no time now. As he tosses his head back onto the cushions, bucking helplessly against Ty's weight, Anders feels something cold land on the column of his throat.

Startled, he snaps his eyes open, blinking in disbelief as he watches small flecks of white drifting through the air above their heads.

Anders laughs breathlessly, clutching at Ty as he rides out the near-punishing tempo their hips are working at. "You're making it snow," he whispers. "You're making it snow in my fucking living room."

Ty freezes, and Anders jerks his head up, staring at him for as long as it takes him to realize the way he said it was all wrong.

"No," he twists his fingers in Ty's short hair, bringing their mouths together again. "Don't you even dare think I don't like it. I love you, alright? Every fucking bit of you and nothing's ever going to change that."

Ty buries his face in the crook of Anders's neck, and Anders just holds on tighter. 

The rhythm that had faltered slowly resumes, leaving them both a little breathless as they clutch each other, twisting their fingers in fabric and hair alike. Anders scrapes his beard against Ty's neck, earning a low hiss for his efforts, and he gets paid back in full with a vicious twist of Ty's hips that has him seeing stars.

"Fuck," he grits his teeth, wrapping both legs around Ty's waist as he grinds their cocks together. Two layers of denim are going to be absent next time, but this time it's perfect. It's now and it's perfect and it's _right_.

Anders hisses out a breath, digging his fingertips into the fabric of his brother's shirt as he keeps riding out the pace. "Fuck, Ty-"

"Come on," Ty pants against his temple, breathless and completely unashamed. "Anders, come on .. please-"

His brother's voice in his ear is all it takes to push him over the edge.

He can distantly hear himself cursing and groaning in the free fall, but Ty is there, Ty is solid, Ty brings him back to the surface as he slowly comes back to himself, fists bunched in his brother's thin shirt.

Ty's breath is still harsh and stilted against his temple, so Anders forces his post-orgasmic limbs to obey his demands, wrapping his legs tight around Ty's waist and pushing up into every forward thrust. "That's it," he murmurs, voice sex-rough and not a little dazed. "That's it, Ty ..."

There's a drawn-out moan, panted into his hair, and he can feel the stuttered jerk of Ty's hips as he comes. 

They slump against the cushions together, limbs gone pliant and uncoordinated as they try to find a comfortable position that won't result in cut-off circulation.

"Fuck," Anders says again, one arm slung possessively across Ty's shoulders.

Ty snickers against his throat, then kisses it. "Maybe next time?"

There's a moment of complete silence, which Anders shatters with an amused snort.

"Maybe next time."


End file.
